Chapter XXVIII: The Enemy Strikes

Silent as a shadow, Cole hurried down the hall, which seemed to extend endlessly in an undeviating direction. Believing it had once been used as an emergency exit he supposed it would eventually lead into the open. He had made no plans beyond the immediate present, but it was his intention to join Doctor Latham as soon as possible and, taking advantage of the sensation his unexpected appearance would create, make the most of his opportunity. Beyond doubt the physician was in desperate danger. The murderous glance Englebreth had thrown over his shoulder as he left them a few hours ago had left an ominous imprint on Cole’s mind.

Soon he brought up against an obstruction, apparently a blank stretch of wall. He fumbled with his hands along the surface expecting to find a contrivance similar to the one at the other end of the wall. Soon his fingers encountered the little knob at the bottom which told him his surmise had been correct. Cautiously he pressed outward and the obstruction gave. A breath of cool night air fanned his face as he stepped out.

Hugging close to the wall he looked about him. Evidently he was in the rear of the house, in a wide recess formed by two projecting wings. Above him and to the sides were several lighted windows, while ahead of him was a sloping, rock-strewn stretch of landscape. Carefully picking his way, he stepped along the nearest wall, all his senses on the alert against an interruption. He reached the corner, looked around the edge of the wall, and then drew back. A stalwart individual, evidently one of Englebreth’s lookouts, was coming toward him.

Cole shrank back against the wall, waited until the man rounded the corner, then swung out with his right hand and landed a smashing blow on the fellow’s jaw. Without a sound the sentry dropped to the ground, and Cole dragged him into the shadows along the wall. It took him but a few moments to undo the man’s shoe laces and secure his hands and feet. Next he ripped out the lining from his coat, folded it into a narrow strip, and firmly applied it as a gag. Last of all he extracted an automatic from the unconscious man’s hip pocket.

“I’m in luck so far,” he told himself, making certain that the weapon was loaded before he continued his interrupted progress. He breathed more easily now, for the possession of a firearm had a soothing effect on his nerves. He crawled forward along the wall, exercising infinite care, until he reached a window in the wing. It was dark, and no sound came from within, signifying that this part of the building was not used by the gang. He placed his elbow against the pane, pressing firmly until the glass cracked. Dislodging several of the splinters, he pushed a hand through the opening and released the catch. In a moment he was inside and began to pick his way cautiously across the floor. At the farther side he opened a door, traversed another dark and deserted room, then still another. Soon he found himself in a hall, and after a glance up and down its length selected a door at random. The moment he stepped inside voices reached his ears. Along the side, diagonally across the floor from where he stood, a narrow streak of light showed the location of the door.

He tiptoed across the floor, placed his hand on the knob, turned it carefully, and opened the door an infinitesimal crack. In an instant he recognized the room. It was the office that had been the scene of his short-lived triumph the night before. Englebreth was seated at the desk, occupying the same wheel chair in which he had sat while witnessing Cole’s abortive ruse. The door before which Cole now stood was the one that had so abruptly opened while he was on the point of telephoning Carlin. He was vaguely aware that the scene had changed since last night, but he had no time to observe details. His attention was instantly engrossed by the little drama taking place before his eyes.

On a cot placed along the farther side of the room lay Latham, and, save for an occasional turn of the head, he lay so still that Cole, although he could not see distinctly, guessed that he must be strapped to the cot. Over him, bending slightly, with a wicked smile playing about his bearded lips, stood Doctor Ballinger, and in his hand was a small object which Cole could not distinguish. The only other occupants of the room were Englebreth and two of the stalwart bodyguards who always seemed to be hovering about him.

“Yes, it was clever, Latham,” the cripple was saying. “You played your cards just right. Whether you were serious or whether you were bluffing is beside the point. Your death would have been ill-timed from my point of view. I don’t think you are afraid to die, Latham. There is one thing you are afraid of, however.”

He stopped. For several moments the room was very still. Ballinger, straightening his back, looked meditatively at the object in his hand, which, as Cole now perceived, was a small bottle.

“That one thing is blindness, Latham,” added the cripple impressively. “Tell him, Ballinger.”

Ballinger held the vial before the recumbent man’s eyes. “One small particle of this fluid dropped into each of your eyes will blind you for life,” he announced. “Not a pleasant thing to contemplate, eh, Latham?”

Cole started as he saw the diabolical form of persuasion that was being employed by the conspirators to make Latham reveal what he was supposed to know. It was a threat far more hideous than death itself. He saw Latham’s chest heave upward as he strained against the fetters that held him to the cot.

“What do you say, Latham?” asked the cripple, bending slightly out of his chair.

“I’ll say that you and Ballinger are a pair of scurvy blackguards,” was the physician’s retort. “I take solemn oath that I will send each of you to jail with a black eye.”

Ballinger laughed derisively.

“Still stubborn, I see,” Englebreth remarked. “I am warning you for the last time, Latham. If you think Cole can come to your rescue, you are mistaken. Between you and me, that infernal meddler will never leave Dutchess Point alive. With you it is different. You can make yourself useful to us, and that is why I am offering you terms. But you must decide quickly.”

“Go to blazes!” said Latham, but there was a catch in his voice, scarcely audible even to Cole’s keen ears, which told that his courage was faltering.

“He thinks we are bluffing, Ballinger,” said Englebreth. “We must convince him that we are serious. Drop a little of the fluid into his left eye. The result will prove to him that we mean business.”

A muffled groan came from the man on the cot. Ballinger stepped closer to the light, uncorked the little vial, cautiously inserted a small syringe through the neck, his brows contracting as he pumped the requisite amount of fluid into the glass tube. Now he set the bottle down, replaced the cork, and with the syringe in his hand turned again toward the man on the cot. A faint grin hovered about his bearded lips, but he had taken only a step in the direction of the cot when a sharp command rang out:

“Stop, Ballinger!”

As he spoke, Cole sprang forward and landed a vigorous blow with his automatic on the right hand of the guard standing nearest to Englebreth. A pistol dropped from the man’s limp fingers, and with an instantaneous movement Cole picked it up.

Ballinger jerked up his head, then stopped dead in his tracks, facing the cot. The cripple whirled round in his swivel chair, a look of utter consternation flooding his white face as he saw Cole, standing calmly a foot away, a leveled automatic in each hand. The second guard leaped forward, but in a moment Cole had him covered.

“Drop that gun!” he ordered, making an ominous gesture with one of his pistols. “This instant!”

The man’s jaw sagged, and the weapon dropped from his hand. Englebreth, sitting hunched and shuddering in his chair, stared at the intruder as if he were seeing a specter.

“You!” he exclaimed in a thin, rasping voice. “You——”

Cole ignored him. His eyes gleamed like points of polished steel. “Ballinger,” he said in a very calm voice, “I’d rather put a bullet through your black heart, but I’m going to give you one chance for your life. See how quickly you can cut Doctor Latham loose. A little speed may save your life.”

The syringe fell from Ballinger’s trembling fingers. For a moment he hesitated, then a knife appeared in his hand, and with surprising speed he slashed the cords around Latham’s hands and feet. A little dazedly the physician rose from the cot. There was a dull, smoldering fever in his eyes as he looked at Ballinger. With startling suddenness his right hand shot out, landing a vicious blow between Ballinger’s eyes.

“There—I promised you that!” he exclaimed grittily. “And you!”

Again his powerful fist darted out, and a splash of crimson spurted from the region of Englebreth’s nose. With a sigh of vast content he looked at Cole.

“How in the world did you——”

“Never mind,” Cole interrupted. “Get Carlin on the telephone.” As the physician started to obey, his cold, narrowing gaze swept each face in the room. “I’ll shoot the moment any one moves or makes a sound,” he declared.

His voice had a ruthless ring, and no one moved. Englebreth, breathing raspingly, was wiping the blood from his face while he squinted at Cole in a dazed way.

The physician hung up the receiver and stepped away from the telephone.

“I got Carlin out of bed,” he reported. “He will be here in a little while, and he will bring enough men with him to surround the place. These human hyenas will soon be where they belong.” He looked about him with a satisfied expression. “I hope Carlin won’t treat the speed regulations too tenderly. I’m hungry as the deuce.”

“So am I,” admitted Cole, a trifle absently. The throbbing and pulsing of machinery sounded remotely in his ears, a muffled hymn of greed and gold-maddened dreams, soon to be silenced forever. He shrugged, and a look of fretful responsibility came into his face. “And there is Toots,” he went on. “I’ve been neglecting Toots lately. Latham, I’m going to give you a piece of advice, with the compliments of The Unknown Seven. Keep shy of cats.”

THE END.

Transcriber’s Notes:

• Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
• Text enclosed by pluses is in small caps (+small caps+).
• Text enclosed by equals is in bold (=bold=).
• Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.